


R+J

by LicieOIC



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LicieOIC/pseuds/LicieOIC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Shakespeare drama group angrily splits down the middle when they can’t agree on the correct interpretation of Romeo and Juliet. Reconciliation seems impossible, until John Smith meets Rose Tyler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R+J

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this as a prompt on Tumblr from sarah531 and the chat group inspired me to write this. It's pretty much PWP, but I like how it turned out!

They did this every year. Every bloody fucking year.

The drama group had been formed out of a mutual love of Shakespeare. What could go wrong? Well, apparently bloody everything, as everyone had their own interpretation of the bard’s material.

And every year, the suggestion came up to do _Romeo and Juliet._ Aside from _Hamlet,_ it was probably the most recognizable of Shakespeare’s works, and would bring in a lot of revenue. After their last production of _A Winter’s Tale,_ they were in sore need of that. They’d had a grand total of twelve audience members. And that was spread out over the week’s run of the show. Even their friends hadn’t been able to be persuaded to shell out their hard-earned pounds for it. They’d taken to inviting the homeless in, just to fill seats.

With Valentine’s Day coming up, _Romeo and Juliet_ would be a lock for funds. God knew why people would want to take their significant other to see a play where the lovers die, but to each their own.

The problem wasn’t the play, it was the players. Every year, someone would suggest it, and for about an hour, everyone thinks it’s a great idea. Until the _how_ of the direction comes up. And every time, the group angrily splits down the middle, unable to settle on an interpretation.

One half of them believed it was a cautionary tale about the foolishness of youth and shallow lust. And they had a point, after all, Romeo and Juliet had only known each other for three days before getting married, and Romeo had, for all intents and purposes, probably only gone after Juliet to get in her pants.

The other half of the group believed it was a beautiful tragedy about poisonous hatred conquered by love. And they had a point as well, the Capulets and the Montagues probably would not have reconciled had their children not fallen for each other and then tragically died as the result of a massive miscommunication. Their deaths probably prevented many more deaths at the hands of the families’ kinsmen.

John, however, was sick of it. He had once belonged to the former group, who believed the lovers were foolish, but by now, he was just utterly done. One thousand percent done. If he had to listen to those whining drama queens rehash the same bloody arguments one more time--

The stage door opened then. He lifted the book from his face and turned his head to see who had come in. From his place, lying on his back on the floor of the stage, he had a sideways view of the girl who walked in. For one glorious moment, before the door closed behind her, the sun silhouetted her figure and turned her blonde hair to gold. He squinted, the shaft of light nearly blinding him, but he couldn’t look away. Then the door shut and he had his first real look at her as the spots faded from his eyesight.

She was petite, would probably only come up to his shoulder, with shoulder length blonde hair. She caught him looking at her and smiled, something that sent a hoard of butterflies loose in his stomach. Her mouth was wide and full, her grin dazzling as she caught her tongue in her teeth. He sat up too quickly and his head spun with tunnel vision for a few seconds.

“Hello,” she said, stopping in front of him, evidently deciding he was the one to talk to, since everyone else was still arguing. “Heard anyone could join this group. What are you working on?”

He got to his feet in a scramble of long, skinny limbs and ran his hands down his front to make sure his red t-shirt wasn’t askew. “Romeo and Juliet,” he said automatically, his brain running on autopilot as he stared at her large hazel eyes. They had gold flecks. He was right about her height. He stuck out his right hand, a tad belatedly. “I’m John.”

She took it and an electric zing pulsed through him. “I’m Rose.”

Rose, it turned out, was rather in the middle of the two groups, much like he currently found himself. She did think Romeo was only out for sex in the beginning, but she could forgive him that because he married Juliet later, when he realized he was in love with her. She, apparently, believed in love at first sight. John hadn’t, but after today, he thought he might.

When she began looking around at the two group on either side of the stage, John decided he had to do something. Someone had to take charge or they’d never get the ball rolling. So, he went over to the white board that sat on wheels to one side and wrote at the top in black dry erase marker: _R + J_

Rose giggled. “That’s a bit funny, actually.”

“What is?” he asked.

“Well, I’m Rose, you’re John,” she said, gesturing between them. “R plus J.”

He stared at her for several seconds, his mouth partly open, until inspiration struck. “OH!” he shouted, making Rose’s eyes go wide and startling everyone else into silence. “Rose, that is brilliant! Just brilliant!”

She smiled, but looked confused. “What is?”

He turned back to the white board and wrote under the heading in block letters: _Gender-Swapped Cast_

He swung back around, this time addressing everyone. “We turn the story into one about female empowerment. That’s something we can all get behind, right?” The two groups looked a bit uncertain, but there was interest on many faces. “We’ve always had more women than men in this group, it’s a perfect solution!”

John grinned as people began nodding their heads, the suggestion sparking a lively, yet much less heated discussion. Rose bumped his arm with her shoulder and he looked down to see her approving smile.

“Nice job.”

* * *

It took them a few days to hash out the script, changing the pronouns, swapping 'ladies’ for 'sirs,’ et cetera, while still keeping true to the verses and iambic pentameter. They changed the setting from traditional to modern day, so that everyone could get away with wearing trousers if they needed to. At first, the traditionalists put up a fuss, but Rose pointed out she couldn’t very well scale a garden wall in a dress, so they’d capitulated.

Rose and John had almost unanimously been voted to be the lovers, as the interpretation was their idea. Only Reinette, the girl eventually chosen to play (ironically) Paris, had balked. (She was from France, hence the irony.)

Rose was a brilliant Romeo. In act one, she changed the character’s image from brooding, depressed, and lovesick to feisty and sarcastic. She was just as animated as Donna, their Mercutio, the character who generally stole the show. John was a disinterested Juliet, watching the Capulets plan his life for him with dull resignation, until he came life upon meeting Romeo, like a flower slowly opening under the sun.

The problem, well, the main problem for John anyway, was that so far he was required to call for a break whenever they rehearsed the kissing scene at the party. Certain parts of his anatomy were not co-operating with him whenever he found Rose’s soft lips pressed against his. Not wanting to embarrass himself and disgust her, he called for break time right after, and proceeded to scarper off to hide in the toilet until he could get himself under control.

It wasn’t looking good for him. There was more kissing during the balcony scene, more kissing during the morning-after scene, during the marriage scene, even the tomb scene... In fact, thinking about it, it was starting to seem like he spent most of the play attached to Rose’s face. If he couldn’t handle Juliet’s first kiss with Romeo, he had no chance of hiding his aroused state from Rose-- or anyone else who was looking, for that matter.

After a week of rehearsing various scenes, their set builders had finished the skeletal structure of the balcony, complete with the beginning of the wall Rose would climb. It only took her a short time to master the mechanics of getting up and over, she was surprisingly agile. But this meant that they were finally able to rehearse the balcony scene, and the interactions between John and Rose were meant to be much more passionate than their initial first kiss.

When the balcony was finished, the low wall of the balustrade would hide anything that might... arise. But for now, with only the bare minimum of boards nailed together, John didn’t have much to hide behind.

He tried to distance his mind from what was happening when it came time for them to kiss. He was an actor, this was supposed to be pretend. But he couldn’t stop the groan that tore itself from his throat when Rose carded her hands through his hair, tugging at the back of it. Her lips parted beneath his and he sank his tongue into the dark, wet interior of her warm mouth, arousal flooding his veins. She moaned and he clutched her tighter to him, annoyed that there was something between them, hindering the motion... What was it?

His spine stiffened as he realized it was the balcony. This was a rehearsal. They were acting. Right. Only his body didn’t think so.

He pulled away from her suddenly, turning away from the rest of the cast and scrambling down from the set. He shouted “Break time!” over his shoulder as he made for the toilet in the green room.

The bathroom was a single tiled room, large enough for disabled access. They had one for the men and one for the women. He leaned one hand against the wall, panting, palming his swollen cock through his trousers to gain some relief via the friction. This was bad, this was so not good. It was a twenty minute taxi and a bus ride from good.

Fear shot through him as he heard the door behind him open. How had he forgotten to lock it? Well, to be fair, he hadn’t had a lot of blood in his brain at the time. He shot a frightened look over his shoulder and nearly fainted when he saw Rose closing the door after her. The lock clicked shut a second later.

“Rose!” he exclaimed, his voice unnaturally high. He glanced down at himself. Nope. Couldn’t turn around. He looked back over his shoulder, one hand covering the blatant evidence of his reaction to her out of instinct. “What-- what-- what are you doing in here?”

“I thought at first I might have had bad breath,” she said, leaning against the door. “Because of the way you ran off every time you kissed me. I started keeping a toothbrush in my purse, just so I could freshen up after dinner breaks.” She moved away from the door, taking a step closer to him, and his heart thudded. “I wasn’t sure what was going on until today.”

She took the last step separating them and wrapped one arm around his torso, pressing her full breasts against his back, her other hand sliding around and under his, cupping him through his jeans, lightly squeezing.

A long, low groan fell from his lips. “Rose,” he barely managed to whisper hoarsely around the lump in his throat.

“Hmm?” She undulated against him, he could swear he felt her nipples pebbling through her shirt and bra, it sent a pulse straight to his groin as she stroked him up and down.

“You don’t-- _Guh_...” He lost all ability to form sentences as one of her nails scraped up the underside of him.

“I don’t what?” she asked as her hands went to the button and zip of his jeans.

A very manly whimper escaped him as his trousers fell to his ankles and she slipped her hand into his pants to touch him. The feel of her hot, soft skin made his eyes shut briefly, while her other hand worked to pull his pants down.

When she’d managed to free him from his boxer briefs, letting them hang by their elastic near his knees, she swiftly turned him at his shoulder, shoving him against the wall. His breath slammed out of him as he bounced slightly, his hands fluttering vaguely as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

He tried again. “You don’t-- need to-- AH!” Again, words failed him as she slid her lips over his tip, swirling her tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive underside. She bobbed her head once, down and up, in a smooth motion.

“I’m tired of you running away every time the sexual tension gets too high, John,” she said, her lips moving against him wetly as she kissed along the side of him. She enveloped him in her mouth once again and he moaned. “We can’t go on working like this.” She sucked him in again. “So, I figured, now that you know I’m interested, too...” And again. She was trying to kill him, he was certain. “...things won’t be so difficult...” _Again._ “...if things get hard.”

This time, she continued to move up and down, sucking him in earnest. His head fell back against the tile wall as he moaned helplessly. One hand threaded through her hair as he twitched slightly, fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth.

Her hands found his arse and she squeezed, pushing him forward and back the way he longed to do elsewhere. Looking down into her gorgeous amber colored eyes as he watched his cock moving in and out of her mouth was too much and he felt the pressure start to rise, much more quickly than usual.

She hummed, making him gasp. “Rose-- I’m gonna--” He gulped for much-needed air, the room was suddenly so much smaller. “I’m-- gonna come--”

His stuttered statement didn’t seem to deter her, in fact, she began moving faster, bringing one hand around the base of him and the other to his sack, cradling him gently, as she sucked hard. He was only dimly aware of his hoarse cry, echoing against the tile, his fingers clenching in her hair, as he exploded in her mouth.

Just as the sensitivity was becoming too much for him to handle, she pulled away and stood up. His chest heaved as he looked at her through half closed eyes, his body sagging against the wall. Delicately, she wiped her mouth with her index finger, then licked the digit clean. He groaned. Definitely was trying to kill him.

She gave him the smile that made his stomach flip over. Regaining some of his faculties, he straightened up and grabbed her arm, pulling her in for a kiss with his other hand behind her head. He could taste the salt of his come on her tongue, it made him shiver.

He leaned his forehead against hers, keeping her close to him, a goofy smile lighting his face. “Breaks probably over. They might be wondering where we are,” he murmured.

“Mmm,” she hummed, her fingers trailing circular patterns on his back. “Or they know exactly where we are. I think people outside the theater might have heard you.”

He blushed. “Come to my flat after rehearsal?”

“Only if I don’t have to climb up your balcony.”

* * *

His heart was pounding as he led her by the hand up the stairs to his flat that night. Despite everything that had happened during the “break” at rehearsal, he was nervous. What if she didn’t want to do anything? What if she wanted to talk? He supposed that could be all right, they could talk about what had drawn them together ever since day one. Had she felt it, too? That electric pulse when they’d first touched, when he had been half-blind from her entrance into the theater?

When the door closed behind him, Rose dropped her purse and jacket on a nearby chair, turning to smile at him. The sight of her in his dim living room was already making his blood pump faster.

“I like your place,” she said, kicking off her flats, already making herself comfortable, as though this wasn’t her first visit.

He nodded, casting a cursory glance around. He was glad he kept things fairly neat, there was no embarrassing mess to worry about. “Thanks.”

She stepped closer. “I like you, John.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I like you, too, Rose. Have done, for a while.”

“Since when?” She trailed her fingers up the edges of his jacket to the collar.

“Since day one.”

She caught her tongue in her teeth. “Me too.”

“And I was so sure love at first sight was a myth. We really are like Romeo and Juliet.” He chuckled lightly.

She echoed him with a husky laugh. “Mmm. No death, though, ta.” She pulled him down for a kiss, starting it softly, a mere exchange of breath, her lips soft and pliant.

John wasn’t willing to be a passive participant this time, however. His hands found her hips and he tugged her even closer, pressing himself against her as he deepened the kiss, letting her feel how she was already affecting him. She gave a pleased hum and shoved his jacket from his shoulders. He let it fall on the floor, then grabbed her hand as he broke the kiss, pulling her from the main room, down the hall, to his bedroom.

He chose not to flick the light switch, there was enough ambient light coming through the slats of his parallel blinds to see by. It cast everything into shadow, blurring the edges, softening the hard lines of reality into mysterious fantasy.

They worked at each other’s clothing, shedding their layers as he edged her toward the bed, fingers and mouths caressing each fresh new expanse of naked skin. Once they were completely bare, he laid her down, encouraging her to lay back on the center of his dark blue duvet. He fumbled for a moment at his bedside table, locating one of the foil packets he had stashed there and rolling the condom on, then he returned, kneeling at the end of the bed.

Taking an ankle in each hand, he gently opened her to his gaze, smiling wolfishly as she blushed. Bringing his mouth down to her legs, he pressed fervent kisses to the soft skin of the inside of her knees and thighs. He hovered over her for a moment, dazedly fascinated by her pink nether lips, glistening with wetness for him.

He ran two fingers along her slit, her answering moan raising gooseflesh along his arms. _“ If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine,”_ he began, stealing her lines with a cheeky grin as he drew slow circles around her clit with his fingertips, _“the gentle fine is this: My lips,”_ here, he kissed her thighs again, _“two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”_

Rose gasped as he teased her, but managed to pick up the game with the barest of hesitation. _“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands,”_ here, she grabbed his hand in hers, bringing his fingers down and helping to ease them inside of her. _“Which sinners hands do touch,”_ she went on, her voice a thin thread of sound. Her next line came out amid a moan of pleasure as she slowly moved his fingers in and out. _“And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”_

_“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?”_ He curved his fingers upward, gliding along the slightly rougher patch on the inside wall, knowing what pleasure some women found there. He was not disappointed.

_“A--_ AH! _\--y, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer--_ Oh, God!” Rose’s fingers were clenched in the duvet, her head thrown back as she struggled to keep up with John’s lines.

He inched closer, his warm breath ghosting across her skin and she shivered. _“Oh, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”_

She was trembling beneath his ministrations, making a lie of the next line, _“Saints do--_ OOH! _\--not move, though grant for prayers' sake._ Ah!”

He grinned. _“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”_ He lowered his mouth to her clit, gently sucking on it, and she screamed, her hips rising off the bed. He pressed his other hand to her abdomen to hold her still, leaning on the elbow to prop himself up a bit, as he reveled in the sweet-tangy flavor that was Rose.

He moved his fingers faster as he weaved his head from side to side, the sounds she made going straight to his cock. He concentrated firm pressure on her clit, wanting to her come, needing to have her. Suddenly, her keening reached a fever pitch and her back arched as her inner walls fluttered around his fingers, drenching his hand in her wetness. Low, hungry sounds escaped him as he lapped at her, easing her through her orgasm.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her, smiling as she whimpered at the loss. Crawling up her body, he trailed wet kisses across her stomach, pausing to take each pink nipple in his mouth and lave them with his tongue. He nibbled at her collarbone, her neck, then murmured at her ear, _“Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.”_

She was still struggling to catch her breath, the next line came out disjointed, her voice was rough, eager for what came next, _“Then... have my lips... the sin... that they have took?”_

He smiled against her neck as he settled into the cradle of her thighs, his cock nudging her entrance. _“Sin from thy lips? Oh, trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again!”_

He thrust home, seating himself deeply on a loud groan, grinning smugly as she cried out, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her legs came around him, digging her heels into his arse, encouraging him to move faster. Encased in her heat, gripping him with velvet, he chased after his own release, pounding into her hard, but slid a hand between them to ensure she would fall again as he did.

As he felt her clench around him, tipping him over the edge, he took her mouth, kissing her deeply, messily, drinking in her moans, aware he was echoing her cries with his own, muffled as their tongues stroked and battled each other.

He collapsed to her side, each of them spent, slick with sweat and gasping for air, clutching at each other with clumsy hands.

“That kiss was SO much better than the book,” she said passionately, her chest still heaving.

He wanted to laugh, but only managed a few breathy chuckles as he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, fitting her against his chest. He knew he’d never see the Capulet’s party scene the same way again.


End file.
